Those that frequent the docks of Baldurs Gate may notice a lady dressed in garments of bright snow-white and icy blue colors, wandering along the piers with a basket full of flowers, from winter honeysuckle, hellebore and winter jasmine, to pansies and witch hazel. Occasionally she halts and drops a handful of flower petals in the water, muttering inaudible prayers and snickering lightly to herself.

Both in the early hours of dawn and late at night, the figurine returns and repetitively goes about her business, routinely blessing ships and boats of all sizes, that would dare the sea of swords in these winter months.

Dispensing a sacred fluid with an aspergil and consecrating their decks with moonfire, the priestess services come free of charge and with offered consultation for omens of astrological nature, as well as providing maps and route planning for the vessels that would desire her aid. Her kind and smiling demeanor is only broken in brief lapses of judgemental stares and saddened expression upon her visage, where the clergy and adherents of Umberlee are found.

A familiar, if recently absent paladin may have been glimpsed treading the shining streets of the Palace District of Baldur's Gate. He greets the citizenry he encounters with warmth and a straight, white smile, even as his countenance hints at something urgent driving his path. He moves toward the grand entrance of the Ducal Palace, cloak whipping in his wake as the echoes of his voice announcing himself to the clerk are cut off by ornate doors closing behind of him.

Auric Blackmore: There are no facts, only interpretations.Retired.Lord Eldarian Al'maire: Darkness retreats, a coward before the sun.

Overblade Valdore gazed steadily upon the woman during the length of her zealous delivery, taking in every gesture and facial expression along with her truth-compelled words as they were spoken. At the close, he dipped his head, arms crossing over his chest in a thoughtful motion. He wore the consideration that now overtook his bearing like robes of office, heavy with the burden of responsibility, though his bearded face softened its frown just a hair.

"Thank you, pryat." He stated in a formal manner. "I will leave you again for a time while I consult with the judiciary. Meantime," he turned to Guardsman Bren. "Might you see to it that the pryat's chains are struck? A hot meal might also be welcome." He glanced briefly toward Mae as if to confirm that supposition before retrieving the documentation sent to him and moving to exit, one hand massaging his bearded chin as he went.

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Several garbled conversations darted down the corridor toward the holding cell, a sense of heightened suspicion and alarm characterizing the cacophony. A few shouted orders and the groans of one man could be isolated from the whole and a hurried shuffle of booted feet approached from its origin. The door opened, and once more the Overblade of the church of Helm strode through.

"You have been freed," he announced without preamble, and a heavy breath huffed from him. "Your evidence , testimony, and an additional letter received on your behalf are enough for a judicial ruling in your favor, though I must warn you." He squared his shoulders.

"There has just been an attack on an officer of the Fist, a message from those of the Black Hand warning against imprisoning His followers and threatening further violence if 'you' are not released." His face grew sour at that. "I do not wish to appear to cater to grisly threats and demands of an ill-informed nature, thus a public statement will be made emphasizing the veracity of your identity upon release. Nevertheless, I think it is likely that you will meet with danger in spite of such measures." He extended his hand for her to clasp, offering greeting to the pryat as a fellow in faith with the gesture. Another city guardsman brought her confiscated possessions back into the cell hurriedly.

"You are welcome to come to the temple, of course, if you had not arranged for lodgings prior to...all of this," the senior Helmite added. "Though I leave that to you. Welcome to Baldur's Gate, Mae yr Machshikhah. Vigilance, now and ever."

"Thank you sir,"she replied as the chains were released from her wrists and ankles."I should appreciate being taken to the temple lodgings forthwith. I am in need of a bath, after which I suppose it would be right to receive a full briefing."

She put her holy gauntlets back in their place upon her belt and picked up her lockbox of belongings with a grunt, ready to depart with Watchknight Valdore for the Temple of Helm in the palace district.

A lone priest spends his time preaching among the slums of Baldur's gate. Wearing voluminous robes of amber and purple hues, he speaks to any who would listen, and many seem to stay a while at least.

Bring onto me your weak, your frail and your forgotten! Bring me your brothers and sisters who have strayed from the Path. The Great One cares not for your ability, your wealth or your lot in life, for he loves all beings and all have a place in this world. He needs not great skill from you, nor donations of gold and silver, all the Great One asks is that you love him and show devotion as he shows his faithful in turn. His gifts are given to any who are fervent, big or small, noble or pauper, Any are fit to wield power in his eye!

Come one, come masses, sit, rest your weary souls at the Altar. Let The Ancient One provide for you, let his priests tend to your needs. In time, you will see his love as we have. You will become the enlightened, those who have seen his Eternal Wisdom, those who understand that all creatures house the Energy of Life. We are all brothers and sisters in his gaze.
As his sermon ends he departs, as silently as he arrived, walking with the curious few, speaking to them of days to come.

Last edited by Unity on Sun Dec 16, 2018 3:06 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Adelaide van de Saer has kept a quieter profile since the birth of her daughter, having spent some time in Waterdeep but can be seen more openly again in Baldur's Gate. She is often accompanying Lord Luke Darius as he socializes with the other nobles and on various duties, when appropriate, around the Duchal Palace. She also tends to her own duties as a priestess of Sune, in the Halls of Inner Light.

Rumor has it that Overblade Martin Valdore has been seen standing at the entrance to the temple of Helm, looking out into the city's streets in search and scowling into his beard. Before long, a Sending flies from the Watcher in the privacy of a nearby vestibule. A notice is penned and tacked outside of the temple, twin to a notice placed via runner on the bulletin board in the Eastern Gate. It states that with the temple's attention of late on the devils to the north, Overblade Valdore requires the aid of adventurers in seeking out a missing pryat of the church. The woman had failed to report back from a routine patrol, and it may be that she has met with foul play at the hands of some various elements who believe her to be the impostor who wreaked havoc in Mae's guise the previous year.

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Meantime, an odd story is spun and seems to take hold among the tavern-frequenting populace of Baldur's Gate that a glowing chicken had been seen by a local drunk some days prior in the farmlands, aggressively chasing a farmer out of his own chicken coop, feathers flying, and clucking with an air of impatient authority.

Rumor is a skiff pulls in at night bearing a large, well dressed man in leather at the docks. Using a spear he pulls himself up to the dock and fishes out coins for the boatman.
Boots tread toward the Eastern District before suddenly turning. Down darker alleys he treads before disappearing out of sight in a place of danger, a place decent folk just don't go.

Rumor is a skiff pulls in at night bearing a large, well dressed man in leather at the docks. Using a spear he pulls himself up to the dock and fishes out coins for the boatman.
Boots tread toward the Eastern District before suddenly turning. Down darker alleys he treads before disappearing out of sight in a place of danger, a place decent folk just don't go.

As the man turns into the alleys of the wind swept docks district, eyes turn their attention to the out of place interloper. Shadows swirl and blend, trailing their potential mark. For now... they watch.

"It is more honorable to be raised to a throne than to be born to one. Fortune bestows the one, merit obtains the other."

Rumor is spoken in the East District of a moment of common and chaos...when a dwarf bearing insignia of Kingdom of Kraak Helzak burst out of the door to Maltz' shop, a well-worn dwarven waraxe in hand, seemingly on the chase for something...that none but he seemed to be able to see.

The dwarf paused in the doorway, then made a quick dash toward the Docks District. Not but a few swift stout leg lengths west were spent before the skilled blade began swinging at the air before him...and though no form was seen being hit, the blade of the dwarf did produce blood, and more blood, and then more blood upon the steel...until finally, the swinging stopped, and a human form appeared out of thin air, falling to the ground, in a puddle of slashed and bloodied flesh.

The dwarf, near rage-point by the look for his face, stood above the fallen figure, axe in hand, just waiting to see if the figure would move at all more, and receive yet another blow...such that would snuff out whatever breath left.

A knightly figure arrived on the scene, and is said the dwarf cautioned the bold and armored knight with these words: "Don't ya be touchin' this scum...He be a thief, and got wat was comin' to him."

And then...blammo, the figure jumped up, fully healed (!!!)...the dwarf placed a strong hand on the figure, but then the thief made an artistic escape move...and ran away as if nothing happend!